


sock-hop romance (i want you, i need you, i love you)

by leslie057



Series: Jancy week 2019 [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Kissing, Romance, Romantic Tension, Slow Dancing, Somewhat Fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslie057/pseuds/leslie057
Summary: she didn’t want to ask anyone to the girls’ choice dance...until she did.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler
Series: Jancy week 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543930
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	sock-hop romance (i want you, i need you, i love you)

It began with the annual Lion’s Den Dance in the winter of 1957. A Hawkins High tradition through and through, the event (often referred to by the _cooler_ guys as “the bitches’ dance”) was a girls’ choice kind of thing. The Sadie Hawkins for shady Hawkins, as one of her classmates had pridefully remarked after talk of experiments going on at their national laboratory for the CIA got popular. 

She highly doubts their provincial town could be so exciting as to have any shady affairs going on. 

Anyway, the rules are simple. Every girl gets a little lioness-shaped piece of cardstock in her homeroom. She writes her name on the card and leaves it in the locker of the boy of her choice. If he gives it back to her, she’s been rejected. But if he keeps it, she’s got herself a date. 

Maybe most girls were dying to participate, but she certainly hadn’t chalked anything out. 

“Now, come on, Nancy. What do you mean?” her mom asks her one evening, a week before the big night, intently slicing oranges for Meringue cookies. 

“I mean just what I said. I don’t want to go to the thing, so I’m not going to,” she says and holds her head high. 

“Okay, so tell me if this is right. You’ve had only one beau before, and you say you know all the other boys and that they’re pieces of work. Now, I let you make plans for college. If you get into the one we agreed on, that’ll be only half an hour away, so how? How do think you’re going to be met with a brand new wave of gentlemen then and that you shouldn’t care for any of them in your grade now?” 

She hops onto the kitchen counter, stealing an orange slice from her mother’s workspace to snack on. “I am getting into college, and there will be a new wave of gentlemen.” 

“And that is to say you get to brush aside every boy you already know?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she says and smiles while the older woman shoos her off of the countertop. 

“Listen to me, I’m not playing with you. You turn eighteen soon, honey. This is something you should already be thinking about. Why don’t I start setting dates for you with some boys again?”

“Oh, shit, no,” she mutters. Quiet enough that it can’t be heard. 

“You know, you never did tell me what you thought about Douglas.”

“What about Douglas? What does a 25-year-old man like him have to do with me?” 

Karen stills her knife, staring at her daughter with reproach. “He is a nice _young_ man. He’s set to go serve in the war, and he seemed quite fond of you. I thought the two of you to be compatible.”

She crosses her arms. “Compatible? How could that be? He was the only one talking that day, and about himself, for that matter.”

Her mother huffs in exasperation. 

“Besides, I don’t know anything of the war.” 

“Oh, you’re exhausting me, Nancy.”

She leans over the counter, toying with the shiny black rotary phone. “And you’re exhausting me.”

“Oh, really,” she pins her hands to her hips with a melodramatic gesture, “it must be so _dreadful_ to have a mother who cares about you!”

Nancy shakes her head in disbelief, a new burst of anger flashing through her. “You think so well this is caring about me. You know, that’s such bullsh—”

“Mom!” her brother disrupts while dashing down the stairs. He appears at the bottom, one hand gripping the rail as if he has to refrain from sprinting away. “Can I run out tonight? I can get on my bike, and you won’t have to let me drive.”

“What for, sweetheart?” 

“To go see Jane. I’m asking her to the Snow Ball.”

Her mother reties the bow at the back of her apron, offering her a tight smile that says _see, you’re the problem._ Nancy glares defiance at her. 

He waits there, jittery, and eventually says, “Well?”

“Yes, Mike. Yes, of course. I’m quite pleased to know someone’s still open to dating.”

“Yeah, it’s swell,” he deadpans. “I’ll be back in time for dinner, that’s okay?”

“Yes, it is. But be careful—”

The thud of the door sounds loudly and shocks them into silence for a moment or two. 

“Nancy,” she says with uncharacteristic sternness, “you’re going to ask someone to that dance.”

“I am not!”

“ _You’re going_ _to_ ,” she repeats. “You need to show me you can be the kind, caring young woman I raised you to be. If you keep on this way, swearing and offending people and saying all these unladylike things, you’ll never settle down. You’ll never marry.” 

She walks a little ways away and sits down, observing her hands as she lays them in her lap. “Would it be so bad if I didn’t find a husband?”

Karen freezes, expression incredulous. “Hey, now. You need to go on and take that back,” she warns. Upon receiving no reply, she approaches the table, heels clicking on the floor, and joins her there. Her prized Shalimar perfume follows her like a cloud. 

“Why would you ever say a thing like that?” she says in a sharp, scornful whisper. “Please tell me you,” she presses her hand face down on the table, “find men...attractive, yes?” 

Her mouth drops open, indignation imbuing her cheeks with a hot crimson. “Oh, my God!”

“Because I’ve read about that before, and I want to help you if you’re...if you feel any unnatural things.”

“Oh, mom, _I’ll_ be with a girl when _you_ stop reading the Good Wife’s Guide!” she yells and storms into the living room. 

“Nancy Elizabeth!” She hurries after her daughter. “That’s enough! Okay, you’re going to have to fix this behavior. You’re attending that dance! You’re going to stop turning down dates like you’re better than everyone else!” 

Standing in the center of the rug, she spins around. “And just what,” she tugs the side comb out of her wavy hair to release her bangs, “will you do if I refuse?” She lets her hands hold onto the accessory so they don’t slap the woman in front of her across the face instead.

She pulls her shoulders back confidently. “If you don’t…”

Anticipation from the both of them fills the room with an uncomfortable hush. 

“If you don’t, you’ll have to rethink your little fantasy about college.” 

———

The succeeding evening, she paces in the foyer and waits.

She’s not sure what compelled her to give that troublesome invitation card to the person that she did. Not sure what got into her and made her write _Come and talk to me when you get a chance -Nancy_ in her feminine cursive and hide it in _his_ locker after the dismissal bell rang. 

They don’t know each other. Sure, they’ve crossed paths many times, but as she’s noticed and as his reputation contends, he’s really just a lone wolf. They’ve come this far without becoming friends. 

Even so, what little information she’s gathered on him has been all too humbling. It’s no wonder he came to mind when she was trying to fall asleep last night, after her requests for a little autonomy were met with less than subtle rejection (also blackmail). How would his mom have responded to her? Without pressuring her to fall victim to the fate of housewifery, she thinks. 

So yes, she longs to be part of his world. In her, the curiosity for it burns especially bright now. For so long, pushing down her crush on him was simple. At the end of the day, their only connector was the friendship of their brothers and, still, they didn’t have to talk to one another too much. But they’ll be out of high school soon, and if her memory serves her right, he will attend college in Indianapolis next year, like she wants to. Getting to know him would be nice (more than nice) and if her spat with her mother told her anything, she _has_ to get to know someone new. 

Since romance has become a prerequisite for her college education, the opportunity to do what she’s never been gutsy enough to is staring her in the face. 

So she’s pacing. Wringing her clammy hands together and examining her appearance in the narrow hall mirror each time she passes it. Under her breath, she recites the script she so fastidiously developed in bed at one in the morning. When she hears his Ford grumbling as it makes its way down the street, she hurries to the window. Concealed behind the curtain, she watches the unwashed car come to a slow stop at the end of their driveway. 

Maybe he’s never been particularly outgoing, but to her, what he lacks in approachability he makes up for in sincerity. She cannot calibrate his family’s patience, how they can shrug off the rumors about them that are unapologetically shared on a weekly basis. 

Looking back on the few experiences she’s had with him, fingers loosely holding the curtain’s edge, she bows her head. The thrill of finally doing this is setting in. _What was his reaction to the invitation? What is his answer? What will she do if he says no? What will she do if he says yes?_

And then he rings the doorbell. 

She flinches, jumping back from the half-frosted window. She hastens to the door, brushes lint off of her capri pants. When she pulls it open, she realizes she is nervous in front of Jonathan Byers not necessarily for the first time but in a very unfamiliar way. 

“Jonathan, hey,” she says, maintaining a quality of fabricated surprise.

“Nancy,” he returns, and his surprise is genuine. “I...didn’t think you would be here,” he says, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as the wet flurries of snow falling continue to stick on to his dark sweater.

“And why not?” she teases. Leans her shoulder against the cool wooden doorframe.

“Just with the National Honor Society stuff and all…”

She tries not to let it disturb her composure that he knows she’s in the organization. _What else does he remember?_ “Oh, yeah, well they cancelled the meeting tonight.” 

“Snow means you don’t have to be honorable?”

“Something like that,” she takes a few steps back, “Come on, Will and the boys were working on some long practice exam, but I think they’re nearly finished.” 

He crosses the threshold with hesitance and follows her over to the kitchen. “Is your mom working tonight?” she asks.

“No, she’s just had a cold the past few days, so she sent me.” 

After she takes her place at the cabinets, he stands by the whirring refrigerator. He adds on, “I’m trying to convince her to let Will get a start on driving, but she’s really anxious about the whole thing.”

Customarily, she would mention her own brother at this point and say how his driving is progressing. Return to the well-fortified bridge between them that is their families, but she’s feeling much too courageous to stop at that. “Whatever the case, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to get a minute with you, if that’s okay.”

“Uh, well,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, “now that you say it...me too.” 

“Really? So, you must have...I mean you got the…”

“Yeah.” 

She glances away, considering the things she’d planned on saying. “I-I’m sure you have more than enough questions, I’m sorry—”

“No, you shouldn’t apologize. I mean, questions, yes. I did have them—do have them, but, still…”

She twists the dainty watch on her wrist, daring to look up at him every now and then. “I didn’t want to confuse you, of course, it’s just that my mom, she made Lion’s Den into such a big thing. She said since I didn’t wanna go, it meant I’d given up on dating. She’s terrified I’ll never find someone to marry, or that I won’t ever be able to settle down. I don’t know. She told me if I didn’t ask someone, she wouldn’t allow me to college.” 

“What?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to impose on you, I just...when I needed to decide on someone, I thought of you. I thought it would be nice if we knew each other better before...well, you’re going to college in Indianapolis, aren’t you?”

He nods. “I want to.”

“Yeah, so that’s why, really. Do you,” she tucks a section of her hair behind her ear, “feel comfortable with everything?”

“With pretending to go as your date?”

Her brow furrows. _Pretending?_ Though her primary aim is escaping her mother’s plans, she does have personal reasons for choosing _him_. She’s slightly stung that he doesn’t understand yet isn’t going to explain herself further. Breaching her very real disappointment, she says, “Right. As my date.”

Shouldn’t it be enough that he accepted?

———

On Friday night, in the passenger side of his car, she feels different. Not in the sense that she has strayed from herself, but rather that she’s _more_ in tune with who that is. The wild wind is whipping her hair across her face, the engine is bad-tempered, groaning as it masks the sound of the crackling melody on the radio, but there’s no need for either of them to complain. Being around one another like this has proved to come with an unforeseen easiness, so far.

“You know, I used to take dancing lessons,” she brings up. 

“What? You never told me that much.”

“No, it wasn’t just how you’re thinking. I was in the first grade, and they ended up kicking me out of the class!”

“That doesn’t sound fair,” he laughs.

“I know. My parents tell me the instructor said I showed...‘verily low levels of coordination’ which they couldn’t fix.” 

“Oh, Nancy, it’s a bad thing we’re going together.”

She begins to tie her hair up. “You never learned to dance?” 

“Never _wanted_ to.”

“Well, don’t get out of sorts on me,” she jokes lightly, “we’ll just stay a short while then buy some time. The owner of the events center is friends with my mom and...you can imagine she would know if I never showed. I can’t take any chances.”

“How come she doesn’t believe you’re going?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she says and smooths out her swing skirt. It’s pale gold in color, like his noisy car, and the netting underneath has made it gather in certain places, take up space on the seat and fold over onto his leg. It makes her think of being close to him. 

He looks equally nice. Wore a black jean jacket that’s not faded like his other ones and exchanged his dirty white tennis shoes for dark grey ones. 

———

When they get there, it’s more crowded than she had envisioned.

This is the last rec dance of the year, and their classmates are an image of energetic despair. About one third of the couples are engaged now, since it’s senior year—of that group, half of the guys are preparing to enlist in the army—and their sock hop is less happy, more sappy. 

At the entrance, she and Jonathan share a knowing glance. She pulls aside the crepe paper streamers, and he follows behind her dutifully when she strides through the crowd. 

“Nancy!” a shrill voice calls when they reach the back right corner of the space, and a short blond girl hurries up to them. “Hi!” she tells her. “Hi, Jonathan.”

“Hey, Sharon,” he returns kindly, staying by Nancy’s side. 

“So you did come! And what am I to think of your little speech about how this thing is a big sham?” 

“Maybe I changed my mind,” Nancy says, “I’ll bet you never considered that.”

“ _You?_ You don’t change your mind for anything.” Looking to him, she comments, “Something must be different. Are you two together?” 

“Yeah,” she says distantly, and his heart goes off beat. Quickly, she realizes her mistake. “I mean, no! No, we came here together, but we're not...he’s just my…uh...”

“We came together,” he offers, straightforward, and the warmth in his chest expands as he thinks about the two of them in the other way. 

“Alright, alright then. Hey, I’ve gotta go find Matt before he sneaks his beer into the cherry coke and coffee and stuff. Bye Jonathan! Bye Nancy!” 

After the girl has left, he says, “Should we have told her he was doing that right over there?”

She gives a bubbly laugh. “What would you say to one of Matt’s blends, anyway?”

“That’s okay,” he sticks his hands into his jacket pockets, “I, uh, really don’t drink all that much.”

“Oh.” A little embarrassment washes over her, guiding a swatch of smooth pink over each side of her face. “Not even in cherry coke?” she tries shyly. 

“Nancy, it’s fine. Let’s go get you something—you’ll need it for when you get home.”

He’s not wrong about that.

She grabs a cup of the coffee beer ( _Careful,_ Matt had advised, _you’re not right supposed to mix the two_ ) and Jonathan trails close behind when she seeks out the low stage against the back wall. They hop on and sit at the edge among the less hyper Lion’s Denners, her saddle shoes just barely reaching the hardwood floor. 

She takes a sip from her cup, and he watches with amusement, bottom lip curling upward. “Don’t tell me that you like it, I won’t believe you.” 

“Don’t believe me, then,” she jokes and sets it down next to her. “At the very least, it will keep me honest.” 

“What were you going to lie about?”

“Well,” her boldness surfaces slowly, “you must have some things you would like to know about me. Like I wanna know about you.”

She notices the deep breath he takes. “I guess you’re right. I would like to know what makes you want to go to college this bad.”

“You’d think since it’s become such an issue, I would know perfectly what I want to get out of the experience, wouldn’t you?”

“ _Don’t_ you know?”

She crosses one leg over the other, long skirt veiling her lap. “Not exactly.” Sensing his confusion, she goes on. “Most might think it’s selfish. For a girl to spend money on more schooling. Waste time there without thinking about proposals or starting a family or those sorts of matters when she doesn’t even know what she’ll do for a job.”

“That isn’t selfish,” he says factually, looking ahead as the lively music plays.

“It could be.”

“No, and you still have time to think about work.” 

“It’s nice that someone doesn’t think I’m naive. I just wish I could know.”

“What would you do if had to say?

“I have no clue.”

“There’s nothing? Nothing that you could picture doing?”

“I figure writing, maybe,” she answers and looks over at him. The rainbow lights which line every rafter on the ceiling have suffused the dark space with a rich, colorful glow and in turn sharpened the angles of his face. The reflective glaze protecting his genuine eyes, his strong jaw, his long eyelashes—all of it’s distracting. The slope of his nose is lighted with green, his soft hair with orange. Pulling herself to reality, she says, “Course that wouldn’t work. You can’t go around with a name like Nancy and speak your mind.”

“Use your initials, then.”

“Oh, but that’s almost more obvious. Half of women writers do that now.” 

“Yeah.”

“So what about you?”

“What will I do after college?”

She nods, excited to listen to him, learn about him. 

“I...I’m hoping I can do a medical program.”

Her eyes widen. “You want to be a _doctor_?”

“No, actually. I...would like to be a nurse.”

“A nurse? That’s—”

Looking down, he disrupts, “Unusual. I know.”

“No! No, I was going to say it’s quite _modern_. How long would that take?”

“It’s pretty variable. After finishing college here, I would have to choose a program. Some are as short as 2 years, then some are 3,4, or 5.” 

“Wow, Jonathan,” is all she manages at first, rather awed by his plans and just him in general. “But you’ve heard of the Doctor Draft, haven’t you?”

“Sure. But I doubt there have been any males in the Nurse Corps. Plus, the war could be over by the time I did get certified.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. She can’t get the smile off her face. Talking to him has been unimaginably refreshing; he’s so down to earth, his mind is so unique, and he makes her feel completely accepted, like she shouldn’t change herself for anyone. Because of him, she is excited for life’s next chapter. To go down paths _she_ will have chosen, not anyone else. 

When the song changes, she looks up. The new one’s slightly slower, and one she’s heard enough to like it for its familiarity. _I Want You, I Need You, I Love You._

He studies her, then gets an idea that he doesn’t think he would get with _anyone_ else. 

“Hey,” he says, “is that one of the owners?” 

“What? Where?”

“Just over there.”

“I don’t see.”

“We should...we should go over there because if they...saw us, uh, right in front of them, you know, they would remember. And tell your mom...if, if she asked.”

After hearing him stammer, it takes her no time to register that he’s asking to slow dance with her. She meets his gaze, creases forming beside her eyes as she laughs softly. “Come on.” 

She pulls him down off the platform with her and finds some empty space on the floor. “Right here?” he asks. 

“Right here.” She tilts her chin up and raises her arms, holding them straight out, resemblant of a bird in flight. It earns them some attention from the surrounding few people, but her expression is sunny, and he can’t focus on anyone else enough to worry that they might be staring. 

One of his rough hands grips her waist gently, and her hand is then enclosed in his other. He tugs them to rest in front of his shoulder, against his warm jacket.

They step lightly back and forth, Elvis’s resonate voice fizzing over the record player. 

“So,” she says, “why Indianapolis?”

“What?”

“Yeah. After all, I’m only going because my parents haven’t given me any other choice. But you, you’re so smart, and you have all these intentions to get into nursing. You should get your degree from some place better.”

“Oh, well, I figure that doesn’t really matter. And I would like to...be close to my family. A short drive away.”

“Yeah. But your mom would be fine otherwise, and Will won’t need you to take care of him forever. He’s a Tiger now, remember?”

“It’s not about them needing me,” he says, “it’s about me needing them. I think I’d go crazy if I didn’t have them to look after. It’s all I’ve ever done.” During his admission, his fingers indistinctly pass over her knuckles.

Beneath her thin black sweater, her skin breaks into gooseflesh. Listening to him talk about himself has changed everything. Once a stranger whom she could only watch from afar, he existed as an abstract soul. No interests to share, no comfort to give, no mind and heart for her to fall in love with. But, tonight, he’s _tangible_. Tangible, and amazing. How did things shift so fast? 

She hums in response, relaxed, enjoying the music. And him.

_Well, I thought I could live without romance_

_Until you came to me_

_But now I know that_

_I will go on loving you eternally_

“Where else would you go if you could do that?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Truly, I don’t care.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Plus, this way, maybe we could ride back here together for holidays and things. Help each other with studying, or something,” she tries, flirtatiousness seeping through her suggestions.

He swallows, works his jaw. “Maybe.”

She doesn’t want to protect her feelings, lock them up for no one to see. They’re already slow dancing, and if she any were closer to him they’d be—

“Not maybe, definitely. You’re...quite nice to spend time with, Jonathan,” she says, feeling antsy. Like something more should come from this night. Her heart is thumping. “I didn’t just ask you here because I needed a date. I...have been looking for an excuse to talk to you all this year.” 

The song fades away, and some groups begin to withdraw from the floor, leaving them with even more space around them.

“I’m sorry,” she continues, “for never taking the time to get to know you. We should have been friends. We should have been close. I...wish we were close,” she says, undressing her truth for him to digest.

He knows they must still be moving, but time hangs above them in the cool air, faltering. He expels a shaking breath. 

“Do you want to be—”

He kisses the rest of her sentence away, pulling her close against his chest. His hand reaches her jaw, thumb heating the cold skin under her ear with barely-there strokes. While he pays attention to her lower lip, she uses her tongue to tug his upper into her mouth, chewing delicately. Shreds of passion flare in her again and again as they stand there. _This is what it’s like to have real feelings for someone_. 

He can taste a roasty, gingery bitterness in her mouth from her drink. Can feel her pulse thudding on her neck. Having a girlfriend has never been a priority of his, and he hasn’t crushed on the girls in their grade much—love was an absolute afterthought.

At least, it was until now. His plan to not worry about dating or rush into something with someone has fallen apart ever since Nancy asked him here. He’s always had a weakness for her. She is gorgeous, without a doubt, but that’s not quite why she stands out to him. It’s her zeal that interests him the most, her relentless personality and the way she can get so hell-bent on things. He’s never heard anyone curse so much, be so smart, be so genuine and freethinking. 

He does question why he never tried to be her friend. _Had the name Wheeler scared him? Even when their families had been friends?_

He pulls back, panting lightly. He can’t help but check to see if people were watching them. Some were. 

She doesn’t move back, but closer, brushing the strands of hair that slipped from her ponytail out of her eyes. With a gentle tug on the cuff of his jacket, she reassures him. “Wanna get out of here?” she asks.

**Author's Note:**

> and that’s the end! this was written for the AU theme of jancy week day 5 but is a week late (of course). still, it was very fun to write, and i hope you enjoyed!


End file.
